The Boy is Mine
by Night Strider
Summary: Rukawa and Sendoh heat up a competition as they struggle to get the attention of the same guy. Pandemonium follows, the fight turns into a circus and both get more than what they bargained for. Ongoing.
1. Chapter 1

The Boy is Mine

Disclaimer: I don't own SD boys, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway.

Summary: Rukawa and Sendoh heat up a competition as they struggle to get the attention of the same guy. Pandemonium follows, the fight turns into a circus and both get more than what they bargained for. On-going.

Chapter I

There was only a flurry of electrified cheers from the crowd when the 2nd half started. Fresh from the locker room, Sendoh Akira moved his way to the court, humming, striding lightly, smiling. As always, he was doing what he did best; unconsciously charming the skirts off the female audiences who already had their throats pared down after 20 minutes of screaming his name. He fumbled at the side court, tucking his top in, careful not to catch the referee's reproachful look which he had earlier received after his jersey, which now bore the number 4, loosened out of his shorts. He wordlessly gathered his team mates around to utter their battle cry and sooner than it was heard, a cacophony of wild voices--collective and individual--issued out of the blue and white portion of the crowd.

In an immediate response, Sakuragi Hanamichi muttered to himself, 'Damn Ryonan fans.'

'I heard that.'

'Ryochin?'

'Captain.' Ryota Miyagi, now the rightful owner of that title, corrected him.

'Uh-huh.'

'Don't get carried away, Hanamichi. They're just spectators.'

'Yeah, I know.'

'You should. Now stop scowling, will you?'

'Right.'

Both traipsed past their dug-out, positioned themselves in the middle along with the rest of Shohoku team and faced their respective opponents. At that instant, the spellbound watchers furthered up their volume and the crowd, once again, seemed to sink under its own cries. Sakuragi snuck a glance at the scoreboard. They were trailing by 3 baskets, with a possible inclusion of a free-throw if neither of their shots was to be a three-pointer. The score was 50 to 55. It was evident by the beaming, half-jesting confidence of Ryonan players that they intended to keep their lead up to the last moment. Sakuragi returned an even more sinister smile, the look of which seemed to say he was going to change that in a matter of seconds or less. The referee whistled for the centers to take the jump-ball. Sakuragi and Sendoh surged forward. Sakuragi held his gaze steady, imposing Sendoh under his infamous killer-eyes and curling his lips into a lopsided grin. Sendoh flashed him a dreamy smile in exchange.

'Ready, Hanamichi?'

'Are you?'

Sendoh and Sakuragi sprang themselves up in the air, stretching their arms to slap the ball in opposite directions. To Sakuragi and Sendoh's dismay, it landed on Rukawa's clasp who, in pure self-command, handled the ball in sustained speed. There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere as the players, as if in accordance with the frenzied crowd, assumed tenser, more agile movements. Girly shrills wafted up from the audience box, which only made Sakuragi wring his hands and utter in low key the words 'cocky bastard'. Red, white and blue figures sped past him. He could see them trooping after Rukawa who now provided the spectators with more reasons to be amazed; he had just topped his fast-break with a turn-around dunk, all in 10 miserable seconds of Sakuragi Hanamichi's life. Sakuragi, resentful and suffering, plugged his ears, disbelieving the very loudness of the shrieks, reserving his curses for some other moment when it couldn't be drowned by these bimbos' stupid screams.

'Nice work, Rukawa.' Miyagi said and offered the sophomore a high five. At the other end of the rectangle, Sakuragi cursed.

30 or so minutes later…

The referee blew his whistle. Alerted, both teams waded their way to the dug out. It's clear to see who won the game, as the crowd which was striped with red and white smirked victorious amid the cheers. Once again, it was better luck next time for Ryonan. More or less dissatisfied, the team members shook hands with the winners. A look of unmistakable grudge was on their faces as they did so.

'Nyahahahahaha!' Sakuragi, for a reason or another, started guffawing. Apparently he was about to laugh so for another good twenty minutes when Sendoh decided to monopolize him. The older lad led him out of earshot, or so he thought, and commenced what seemed like an interview. From where Rukawa stood, he could see how engrossed Sendoh was in his little chitchat with the red-head. What could they be talking about this time?

Out of sheer curiosity, which had since begun torturing him, Rukawa gradually sneaked his way nearer the two lest he blew off his cover. It needed to be done carefully. It didn't take minutes for the fox-eyed boy to realize that Sendoh was up to something.

No, it wasn't just something. It was something that would ultimately concern Rukawa, it dawned on him in shock. Yes. Sendoh was infringing on something Rukawa had hitherto held scared and safe…yes…it was about Mitsui. No doubt about it at all. Sendoh was weaselling something out from Sakuragi…about Mitsui. Not realizing how conspicuous he'd become Rukawa stood there in a trance-like pause.

'Oh you're there, Rukawa.' Sendoh grinned. Something moved inside Rukawa then, like it gave him some kind of stimulus to jerk Sendoh away. 'I was just telling Sakuragi here how interesting your team mate Mitsui is.'

'No, you weren't. You were trying to find out his interests and quirks and everything. You want his biography.' Sakuragi frowned. At this, Rukawa became ever averse towards politeness. 'Why don't you bug Rukawa here? I'm going.' Sakuragi announced and went to smoke.

So Rukawa was right; Sendoh had cornered Sakuragi to find stuff about Mitsui. How nasty.

'You stay away from him.' Rukawa blurted out just then.

'From Hanamichi? He's all yours, dude.'

'No, from Mitsui-sempai.'

Sendoh stared at him. Seeing how possessive Rukawa was didn't make Sendoh feel like an intruder any, rather he was emboldened and seemed very interested in the turn of the events. There was a peculiar informality between them as they exchanged looks.

Each kept a straight face. Unless something screwed up Rukawa's eyes, Sendoh was smiling, insultingly. How could he look so carefree after that irrevocable mess his team just managed with Shohoku? He seemed to be loving every bit and piece of this, the thrill of being introduced to his rival in love not the less. In due course Sendoh came back to himself again, cleared his throat and spoke,

'Speak for yourself.'

Having duly accepted the challenge, he turned his back and marched out on Rukawa.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

The Boy is Mine

Disclaimer: I don't own SD boys, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway. I don't own Close-up or Kodak.

A/N: thanks for the reviews, dear readers. This chapter, I think, is going to be a little long. I just need your tolerance. I'm not sure if writing an SD fic again is something I can still do the same way as I did before. At any rate, enjoy.

Chapter II

--

And thus the competition for Mitsui Hisashi's attention began. Rukawa Kaede knew this well enough without looking at all sides of the story. It was clear as day for crying out loud; Sendoh Akira, the crowned jerk of Ryonan High, was now officially his rival. Not that he wasn't used to any feeling it might have elicited, it's just that, being Sendoh's rival in love sure wasn't going to be a walk in the park. And it pained Rukawa to enumerate the reasons why; knowing that Sendoh was good-looking, and hence a capable boyfriend-snatcher, was enough. You're darn right it wasn't going to be easy! Rukawa was at the risk of losing his mind when his alarm clock, wind down 15 minutes late, rang to save him from transforming into a complete nutter at 6:30 in the morning. Otherwise it was futile as Rukawa hadn't slept at all. He never dreamed insomnia would be this shitty.

It was a grey morning. Rukawa hadn't expected to see Mitsui hovering around the corridor, deliberately committing tardiness and all that. He should know, since he himself was 30 minutes late for class. The senior was rubbing his chin while he appeared to be reading something that was posted by the dudes at the Students' Council on the bulletin board. Which by the way was located opposite the oversized windows that took up three-fourths of the width and height of the whole wall. A spark of interest seemed to be occupying Mitsui's face at the time, Rukawa observed. Guided by immense curiosity he drew nearer and nearer to Mitsui, making sure the other would notice his presence. He wondered what kind of wild announcement the Students' Council was capable of to catch Mitsui's interest like this. He wished Mitsui would devote the same interest to him but…When he was close enough to discover Mitsui's amusement, the latter looked up and smiled at him.

'Mornin', Rukawa.' Mitsui said idly.

Rukawa nodded.

'Look what they've got.' Mitsui said and pointed at a piece of light red paper thumb-tacked on the board. It simply said in bold uppercase:

"JOIN MR. AND MS. CLOSE-UP SMILE PAGEANT AND WIN LOTS OF CASH PRIZES AND COOL STUFF!"

Below the stupid statement were the major requirements for entering the contest. Confidence. Nice smile. Good looks. Decent height. 16 to 25 years old. And other uncool superficialities. Funny how Mitsui reached all conditions abovementioned. And, come to think of it, so did Rukawa. Aside from that, there was a picture of a pretty girl and a pretty buff guy flashing their ridiculously pretty teeth for the whole world to see. By this, any tendency in Rukawa to imagine himself in the shoes of any Mr. Close-up Smile competitor vanished. It was simply stupid to be interested, much more to join, he resolved. He was about to shrug to express his indifference when Mitsui spoke,

'I'd like to see who would be Mr. Close-up smile. It intrigues me.'

Mitsui simpered, which altogether cancelled Rukawa's impulse to say something derogatory about the pageant. Unless Rukawa was suffering from sight impairment recently incurred from his brief ride to school, Mitsui winked at him. Then, as if having made his point, Mitsui marched off, whistling carelessly as he disappeared to the far end of the corridor, which now strangely seemed like an un-peopled, cursed tunnel to Rukawa. Alone, he frowned to himself. Did Mitsui just…?

Rukawa looked at the advertisement once more. He reread it. Again and again, assiduously, as though a big part of his life depended on it. As far as he was concerned, the contest did not prohibit gay people from entering. Surely, Mitsui just made it obvious that he wanted Rukawa to be there? Surely, that wink meant something? He was hinting at it. Rukawa stood alone in the corridor, his mind racked and pining for rest. In the succeeding days he would be seeing to it that he got that stupid Mr. Close-up smile title.

Because he should, come hell or high water.

Thus Rukawa did what nobody could otherwise force him to do. He joined the stupid contest.

--

Rukawa didn't simply just dream of Mitsui. He didn't just have daydreams about him. He had nightmares about him. He had untenable, horrible, silly, horrific nightmares about Mitsui. Sometimes he hated him. Sometimes he didn't. Nevertheless, whether he was in a hate-Mitsui or like-Mitsui mood, he was sure of one thing: He loved the boy. Whether he had nice dreams or unspeakably bad nightmares about him, he was still sure he was going to continue loving Mitsui. Yes, Mitsui rocked his world upside down just like that. Now, however, Rukawa had become apoplectic with insomnia. And the dreams and nightmares had gone away someplace he'd never know. But the dreams didn't take with them Rukawa's obsession for Mitsui; if anything, it had only been intensified, like it had to expand itself to fill the gap left by those dreams and nightmares. As a result, Rukawa loved Mitsui with a peculiar kind of despair and worse, he lacked the self-assurance to tell himself that he was going to be okay. For all he knew, he would go on carrying that brutal feeling. It was something he had to hold on to; else life had no meaning. Everything would have no meaning. Just like what he was going to do this day.

So on an unlikely afternoon in Kanagawa, all 187 centimetres of Rukawa Kaede went to a Kodak studio down Y mall where people had their Photoshop-manipulated pictures taken. A typical package of six one by one photos cost around 450 yen, which in the freshman's translation went: One hundred ten per cent of his daily allowance. Which was annoying beyond all reason. What he needed wasn't simply just a stupidly pricey package of six one by one pictures. According to Mr. and Ms. Close-up Smile dot com he needed:

A) One full length photo of himself; maximum size B) Two half body pictures; size six by eight C) Four face shots; size two by two D) One face shot for his résumé; size one by one

And as if that weren't demanding and hassling enough, he had to smile. Close-up's website emphasized the significance of flaunting the contestant's shiny, white, perfectly curved, even teeth; otherwise, the fact that the product was indeed a toothpaste would be overruled and therefore made pointless. Rukawa would have to plaster a smile on his face as some stranger took photos of him. He couldn't remember the last time anything or anyone for that matter made him smile. It seemed so long ago he was almost sure he had forgotten how to do it. Nonetheless he managed out of great difficulty. Each time the camera guy said "ready", Rukawa flinched as though he couldn't stand being steady. Rukawa guessed that sooner or later the guy would run out of films. But he didn't. And he stayed there, caged inside a claustrophobia-inducing room, longer than he could've possibly endured. At one point he stood up, told the cameraman that he was fed up and left to get the receipt.

When he had obtained the pictures, half an hour later, he couldn't help the dismayed expression that crossed his face. So that was what he laboured for; ugly pictures that didn't deserve anything but to be banned from humanity's sight. Instead of infusing him with more confidence, the photos almost made him a full-fledged suicidal. Never had he paid such meticulous attention to the imperfections on his face, if there was any and if they weren't what his fans called his tiny assets. He looked severely fatigued and, naturally, sleepless. He would've asked the personnel if they could do something about these miserable pictures of himself if he wasn't on the brink of collapsing into a profound sleep. He then decided that he was going to put off mailing the pictures to Close-up, and drove homeward.

Thus for the first time in many days, he slept like nothing else.

--

The following day was worse than a rude awakening. He had sufficient sleep, alright, but the revelation that subsequently followed was unbearable.

It turned out that the bimbo population of his stupid school already entered Rukawa's name two days prior his uneventful picture-taking. So all the effort was pointless to begin with. He didn't know how they got hold of his pictures (his best guess was, they were all stolen shots) or even how they managed to meet the other massive requirements such as the details about him. But maybe they all had memorized them by heart. What the fuck ever.

In the practise gym, it dawned on him in shock that his muscles weren't functioning well. He tried to pull up some stretching routine, but didn't go as far as getting the desired results. His body was still in a bad condition. Absent was his mobility-regulation; he virtually had no control over his physical side. Consequently he didn't do well in rehearsal. Mitsui and many others outscored him, to Sakuragi's exaggerated exultation. When asked if he didn't feel well, he simply nodded. At the locker room Mitsui complimented Rukawa's guts for entering Mr. Close-up smile as if that were a greater issue than his sucking this day.

'Oh, I know well enough that you didn't put your name in. With the number of fans you have I don't think you'd need to exert much effort in life. They're pretty good utilities, aren't they?' Mitsui said. Rukawa felt a most urgent need to say he did intend to join, technically, if that would earn him one meaningful praise from the senior. He knew better. He just hoped the pictures those bimbos sent were good enough to secure his victory. Because that victory would bring him one step closer to Mitsui's affection or interest or whatever they damned please. Or so he thought.

Turning away, Rukawa felt his love grow bigger and bigger. For some reason he felt certain that his life sucked worse than most. So goddamn it.

He also decided to forget about mailing his studio pictures. They were horrendous anyway.

--

It was lucky that the pageant itself was not as demanding as it initially appeared to be. All the contestants had to do was to be there at the ceremony until the announcement of winners took place. The votes were cast via SMS. Each contestant was given a code name. Voters would key in the code name of their preferred contestant, then press space, then "Mr. C" and send them to 2366. Each phone number was entitled to one vote; anyone who wanted to vote twice should buy another phone card, in other words waste money. It was by then the popular agenda of Rukawa army. And Rukawa couldn't help trying to fathom what pathetically small portion of their brains they were using until he realised that he should be thanking them, his dear mass-produced fans. He could make robots out of them if he wanted to. It just so happened that he only wanted Mitsui. Ever.

So the fateful day arrived. The event girls and boys alike fervently waited for. The programme was to be held at Kanagawa Centre. From the outset, it was easy to tell that the convention was a major one. People mobbed not only the outside but the inside of the stadium. Fever caught just about everybody. Rukawa, possibly the only unenthusiastic person amidst the hoi polloi, wedged himself in and introduced himself to the formidable-looking bouncers as one of the contestants. He was admitted with one quick surveying look. He went further in. He could see, from the crowd, quite clearly, the ever so familiar costumes of the Rukawa Army. Layer after layer, they filled the stands, audibly shrieking his name and nicknames and booing others. He scrunched lower, careful not to be seen. Then he saw, on the stage, the blow-up pictures of the other contestants. There was Fujima Kenji, looking like all the beauty salons in Kanagawa conspired to make him look prettier than he already was. There was also Kiyota Nobunaga, immaturity-incarnate; Sakuragi Hanamichi, which made Rukawa wish it were the end of the world; his own picture in which he wasn't in the least wearing a smile. He looked pallid, lazy and cruelly disinterested. At any rate, it was the best he could expect from his fans. Then, to his utmost disappointment there was Sendoh Akira's poster, gleaming, looking prime in that one captured moment, begging other male species to be insecure about him. Which in any case was successful. Fuck it. Soon as Rukawa winced away from the painful sight of it, his head started boiling. A new aspect of jealousy came to him, forestalling further movements. He was so angry. Paranoia seized him. Did Sendoh know that Rukawa was going to join too? Did he really think Rukawa would even bother? Did he join just to spite Rukawa? And why would Sendoh fuck up with him to such extent…? Unless Mitsui threw hints his way too…Nah. That was unlikely, and yet…

'Hi, Rukawa.'

Rukawa wheeled around to receive the surprise of his life. In his perfect gentleman attire, Sendoh stood before him. It would've been the state Rukawa most dreaded to see Sendoh in, in this extremely flawless form. At this point, Rukawa was sure either jealousy or defeat would drive him mad. I can't lose!

You're using up my oxygen, Rukawa was tempted to say but thought better of it. Instead, he looked straight at Sendoh, not quite in a sizing-up way as he had done prior. On a given day he would have been hardly able to withstand his proximity; today Rukawa had too much anger inside him to ever bother backing out. To fortify this, he had supported Sendoh's gaze extra seconds long. He couldn't do that before, he was cocksure of it.

'So it's true; you would be here. Anyway, nice photo.' Sendoh uttered with a smile. Rukawa couldn't tell if Sendoh was being courteous or simply mocking or simply being idiotic. He just nodded. For all he cared he wished this person to make himself scarce for the rest of his life. At the present, the two celebrities started garnering attention. Girls, batches and batches of them, began drawing into them as though both Rukawa and Sendoh were negative poled magnets and them positive. In no time cameras flashed and flashed. Both players were now besieged by an impermeable phalanx of bimbos. Rukawa grew irritated. He wanted the day to be over.

'Excuse me.'

As if to answer his prayers, a deep voice, neither his nor Sendoh's, sprang up. He knew that voice. Mitsui immediately popped out of nowhere. He was looking exceptionally sunny as he squeezed himself between the girls.

'I'm so sorry but you people would have to give these two a break.' Mitsui casually told the girls as if following his instruction was a necessity. When the girls put on a reluctant look he went on, 'Well let's be civil here. If you want Sendoh and Rukawa to be disqualified, lingering around them would be advisable.' Mitsui smiled. It settled the matter as the girls began stalking off wearing the most grievous look one can imagine.

Now there was only the three of them in this wonderful scene. Rukawa had the craziest mixed feelings about this. On one hand it was fabulous to be left alone with Mitsui. He was a breath of fresh air, an oasis in the middle of the desert, a warm hearth in Antarctica…on the other; it was appalling to have Sendoh share this moment too. Goddamn it.

'Whew. Those girls treat you like extinct zoo animals. Anyway, so you've found him, Akira.' Mitsui addressed Sendoh. Rukawa's insides lurched. Did Mitsui just refer to Sendoh with his first name?

'Uh-huh. He was looking like a lone pup until I caught up with him.' Sendoh replied. There was some sort of understanding between him and Mitsui which was hard to miss. Like he and Mitsui had been communicating lately. Rukawa was too furious to react.

'Oh, I'm so sorry.' Mitsui spoke to Rukawa, sparing no time to explain. 'Akira and I have been here since morning. We've been wondering where you were so we separated and looked for you. You're late, we can see. It's alright, we should stick together.' Mitsui finished.

Rukawa kept quiet. He didn't misinterpret Mitsui, as he was hoping he had. Mitsui and Sendoh had made friends. In such a short notice. Rukawa's theory was, Sendoh tracked Mitsui down and used this time to his advantage. Yes, the time was very, very auspicious; more auspicious than he could've realised in fact. Then just like that, he charmed the pants off Mitsui. The sick flirt. And now Mitsui had become Sendoh's escort for the night. And now they were close and inseparable. A good-looking item. This is the end of the line for me. Clearly Sendoh's got him in his snares. Now my life really sucks. Rukawa thought hard.

'Let's go up front. The awarding is near.' Sendoh suddenly said just in time to break Rukawa's train of thought. The three of them headed to the foot of the stage, Rukawa trailing listlessly. It felt so ironic to him that now he was walking in their shadows. He felt ugly. Surely, this episode isn't worth enduring? Surely, it would do Rukawa a good deal of good to walk away from the two of them, who apparently were under some mischievous mutual understanding designed to torment Rukawa? Oh, this thought doesn't interest me.

Then as though there were no end to all his surprises, he bore witness to something very weird. Mitsui's face was printed on a laughably large glossy paper. It was in the middle of the stage, ostentatious and demanding profuse adoration. It had been blocked by a gigantic balloon a while ago, apparently. Now with the obstruction gone, the Mitsui on it looked so beautiful, needless to say, but there was something subtly different about that face and that one of the Mitsui standing beside Rukawa. It was the same person and yet, all at once, not quite.

Rukawa locked his gaze on the picture. A newfangled sensation came over him, like a sweeping, gentle tsunami, so great and yet so soothing. It took him another spell to realise that he was still nourishing some hope with the senior. After all, he was his team mate. Ergo, he stood a better chance than that fucking fucker called Sendoh. Granted Sendoh didn't transfer to Shohoku anytime soon, in which case Rukawa and his fantasy-based prospects were better off buried. He continued looking at the picture as though something compelled him to.

'Oh.' Mitsui was grinning at Rukawa, half shy, half proud. 'You're gravely mistaken if you think I joined. My picture's there because I was last year's Mr. Close-up Smile. My friends' whim. But I won anyway. I was lucky you guys hadn't yet knocked out my teeth at the time.' Mitsui said to Rukawa and he and Sendoh laughed in harmonious unison. Rukawa was in a momentary state of shock. Nothing in Mitsui's previous behaviour indicated that he had something big to do with this whole close-up crap. So that answered his strange interest in the advertisement. At first Rukawa thought it was plain idle, misplaced interest; apparently Mitsui was justified to act that way. At least he was in the clear with regard to that matter.

Rukawa sighed, failing to make the aimed impression of being amused. He was glad that Mitsui had put his punch behind him, that he was willing to make a joke out of the ugsome incident. But he was bothered. So much. Even with his dentures, Mitsui looked just as perfect. He remained perfect, impeccable in every physical way. It occurred to Rukawa that he was part of the reason why Mitsui lost his front teeth. So in a way, Rukawa was responsible for that perfection too. He almost smiled at the thought. At the same instant, the microphone sounded.

'Ehem, ehem. Good evening, minna-san! I am Lin, your emcee for the night…'

The emcee babbled on. A little later she announced the winner of Ms. Close-up Smile. A brown-haired girl with large enticing eyes ascended. Many guys whistled, but neither Sendoh nor Mitsui followed suit. They seemed keen on waiting for the Mr. Close-up coronation.

Seconds later, two stocky men in black pimp shirts approached Mitsui. They whispered something to his ear. Mitsui nodded, turned to Rukawa and Sendoh and smiled,

'It's my call. I'll be back soon. Hope one of you gets it.' He winked and sank into the weight of the anonymous crowd. In no time flat he was on the platform, elevated among the rest, bearing a glass trophy which would edify the winner's identity as Mr. Close-up Smile, super authentic. He closed in beside the emcee as the latter introduced him to the audience. He was received with an enormous applause. At the same moment, a distinct, boisterous cheer flew out of the thick crowd. Sakuragi Hanamichi and his animal-blooded guntai were making a commotion in his name. Mitsui smiled awkwardly. It was pretty hard not to miss Sakuragi's loud, pitiable plea: 'Pick me, Mitchy!' Yeah, Sakuragi, you need all the support you can get.

'And, for the winner of Mr. Close-up Smile, the highest number of votes through SMS goes to…'

Within that minuscule segment of time, every thought, pleasant or otherwise, came crashing down on Rukawa. This competition had become so entirely personal to him, which was stupid. It had extracted great amount of stress and anger from him lately. It was not due it, he learned. It wasn't just about Sendoh and him and Mitsui. It was about, in fact, nothing. So why should there be emotions involved? Until then it didn't transpire to him that it was not in Mitsui's hands to select a winner. Rukawa had been assuming all along that there was only himself and Sendoh to cull from. Wrong. There were many able others. For the first time, Rukawa was seeing the pageant for the ugly thing it was. Even if either of them won, it wouldn't define Mitsui's choice, wouldn't amount to anything significant unless you count the girls' additional attention as such.

'Fujima Kenji!'

As was expected of loyal, manic Shoyo fans, they all commenced a deafening hymn. Fujima Kenji hoisted himself up the stage. He shook hands with Mitsui, who was beaming. In a while, the programme started ending. Credits were recited through the speaker. Confetti was being showered from nowhere above. Rukawa forgot that he was still beside Sendoh. He espied him smiling. It wasn't a bitter smile; it was an I'm-not-a-lousy-sport-about-losing kind of smile. Apparently unsuccessful again on this occasion, Sendoh could only manage that one expression he was good at.

'Well, too bad you didn't make it.' Sendoh said.

'You too.' Rukawa replied.

'Let's find Hisashi. I know you want to.'

They found Mitsui backstage, chattering with acquaintances. Mitsui caught their eyes and turned to them.

'Well, better luck next time.' He told Sendoh and Rukawa.

'Not interested.' Rukawa and Sendoh huffed. Now that Mitsui's duty to the pseudo-pageant was certainly over, so became his interest. No reason for Rukawa and Sendoh to join again next year.

'Right. Same here. I'm glad I'm rid of it.' Mitsui smiled.

They ambled away from the venue, retiring to the sidewalks. At the end of the day Rukawa concluded that it was indeed an unforgettable encounter with the two people who would play a meaningful role in his sucky, sulky, stupid life. His obsession for Mitsui would never wane. His anger towards Sendoh would never fade. It was complicated, yeah, but he didn't have any other choice but to swallow it, this tangled predicament, whole. Then, maybe, someday, they could make something out. Compromise? He hoped. If only Sendoh wouldn't prove to be impertinent and frighteningly clingy. Why can't he just give Mitsui up for fuck's sake?

Each of them went home, rather over-wrought. None offered to extend the bonding by having a few drinks. For Rukawa it was a futile day. All he had accomplished was to be diagnosed with deeper obsession, and to squander tons of money and be dog-tired and everything. It was silly of him to think that he'd gain more points if he won it. So what? He would just put his dignity on the line, giving an opening for someone like Sakuragi to call him devilishly lame names like Captain Smiley or Champion Toothy or whatever. He really didn't want the title. What he wanted was Mitsui's attention. Sadly for Mitsui, choosing between Rukawa and Sendoh wouldn't be a picnic. For one thing, they weren't apples and oranges; they were individuals. Unique, very unique individuals. And they demanded thorough thinking-over.

Rukawa hoped to hell Mitsui would make the right choice one of these days.

TBC

A/N: Okay. This one was about Rukawa, obviously. The following chapter, to be fair, would be about Sendoh. I mean, written in his perspective. I want to keep the rivalry in perfect equilibrium as much as possible. That way, no one's left out. Besides that, I don't think I should/would be writing about Mitsui's views. I want to maintain objectivity; meaning, I don't want to reveal yet whom he favours more.

Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

The Boy is Mine

Disclaimer: I don't own SD boys, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway.

A/N: reviews for the previous chapter were very much appreciated. I dedicate this to ivybluesummers who hasn't been writing at all for the last few months and whose works I miss so much. Upload new fics, okay? Same goes to the MitRu fans who reviewed. Yes, I mean YOU. Hahaha.

--

Chapter III

He was halfway at it before he knew it even started. Just like that, he bid him entrance to his heart. He didn't know that he was falling dramatically in love, with Mitsui Hisashi that is. Half the time he was unconscious, daydreaming, as love and passion arrested him.

You stay away from him. Rukawa's tone, dripping with authority, bounced to the right wall of his skull, then to the left, down, up and repeat. It wouldn't stop echoing, it seemed; and the longer it persisted, the louder it got. He must be losing his mind. Only it wouldn't lose Mitsui! And that was the biggest bitch of all. He couldn't remember the last time he had so unintentionally offered his attention to anybody. Damn, he hadn't even offered half as much to his math teacher's lectures when the latter threatened to fail him in two terms. He wasn't sure what was wrong with him, exactly. It was either he was insane or Mitsui was an addictive drug or, god forbid, both. At any rate, measures should be taken, if at all it could be helped.

Sendoh Akira was quite a good boy. He was perfect in many ways but would much rather be treated with equal regard as any other. On a given day he could be seen unalterably seeking diversion by the bay side, fishing. On another, he was leisurely directing Ryonan High's daily practice routine. Whichever, he did both with unflagging spirit and good humor.

Today, though, was a considerably noticeable break from either habit. The time was marked at 4:30 in the afternoon, and Sendoh Akira was striding across T Street, apparently with an intention to enter Colonel's Diner and perhaps, to linger there longer than necessary. Inside was a busy clamor of dishes, kitchen utensils and continuous prattle. The air-conditioner was switched on, but it didn't give the desired effect of a cool atmosphere; the whole place couldn't otherwise be described as steamy and at most, bearable. And to think that winter season had long since settled in like a plague. Since it was a weekend---Saturday to be exact---people, young and of age alike, were very much entitled to dabble around as long as they chose to. As a result, Colonel's Diner remained packed with bodies and the nuisance they provided. Sendoh frowned, seeing that it was nearly impossible to get a vacant seat. He stood by the entrance for some time, patiently waiting for a customer or two to leave. At long last, a queue of girls stretched up and headed to the exit. Quickening his pace, Sendoh secured the seat they left. He would be peacefully occupying it for the next thirty minutes.

--

Meanwhile, in other parts of Kanagawa, Sakuragi Hanamichi barged out of Pachinko's. Clearly in distress, he counted the meager amount of coins that scattered on his palm. He could be seen scratching his head, cursing, frowning and cursing again. Anyone who paid any attention to him wouldn't mistake him for a successful gambler. He cupped the coins tightly and shoved them back inside his pocket. He was on the verge of accepting his defeat for the day when he looked around him and his eyes fell on someone he hadn't seen in weeks.

'Hey, Megan-kun!'

Across the road was his old teammate Kogure Kiminobu. He had just then recently emerged from a bookstore whence he purchased a textbook on Math Statistics. He was wearing a cashmere top and a pair of scrupulously ironed brown slacks. Sakuragi couldn't help noticing, unobservant as he was, that Kogure had seriously taken it upon himself to look like a full-blown university student. And to no surprise, succeeded in doing it.

'Sakuragi?' Kogure uttered in slight surprise. His expression was mingled with joy and doubt. He strode forward the red-head who had now relinquished any idea of returning inside. Thanks to Kogure's good emanation.

'Oh, accurate recognition. Thought all that college stuff preparation made your memories go away like puff already. I wouldn't be shocked if you called me Madonna.'

'Sakuragi, what are you saying?'

'I'm saying that you're no longer dropping by at practice sessions as often as you senior guys promised. You haven't even watched a single Shohoku game since you left the team.'

'Akagi has been busy lately.'

'Busy peeling and eating bananas?'

'Studying for the final tests.' Kogure smiled. 'I'm sorry we don't have much time. Senior year is a little harder than we thought. Especially for Akagi.'

'Thought so. He must be feeling super lousy himself.' Sakuragi harrumphed.

'What are you doing here?'

'More like, "what _was_ I doing here". Sucking at pinball. Just lost badly.'

'Yeah, likely story. Don't they even ask for your ID? You shouldn't be allowed inside, should you?'

'I have this.' For a split second Sakuragi fished out a spurious ID from his wallet and soon as he did so, pushed it back to its former hiding place. A grin of unmistakable pride hung on his face.

'Oh,' Kogure gave him a disapproving glance and choosing to ignore the matter, continued, 'Anyway, how's everyone doing?'

'Mmmh…Have you time to spare, Megane? Because it's a long-winded tale you're asking me to spin. I suggest we dine at Colonel's while I share the details with you.'

'Oh yes. I've been planning to visit the place for some time now. Let's go.'

They traipsed away, chatting animatedly about Shohoku's particular team members. The snow, immaculately white, was thick under their soles.

--

Rukawa Kaede had just scooped up the snow that piled up in their front yard when he decided to go on foot. The pathway leading to the gate was still haphazardly filled with a few patches of snow; had Rukawa shoveled them with his eyes open, the outcome would've been more pleasing to the eye. Further on outside, he could easily see the predominance of autumn, his favorite season. Because sleep never felt so good when it was autumn. But unlike the previous passing of winter, this one rather demanded Rukawa to be alert. Mitsui's invitation was still fresh in his mind; Rukawa could still remember his line verbatim: 'Rukawa, if you have time, come and see me at Colonel's. I happen to work there.' Rukawa didn't bother analyzing whether it was just Mitsui's way of endorsing Colonel's or his way of asking Rukawa out on a date; for all Rukawa knew, he had to use all in his power to find quality time with Mitsui. And also, to even the scores with Sendoh, who had lately been supplying him with a great deal of insecurity. For him, despite Sendoh's clear win last time, hope wasn't yet entirely over.

Today was the day on which Rukawa chose to see Mitsui at Colonel's. Except in his jersey, practice attire and school uniform, Rukawa hadn't seen Mitsui donned in anything else. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how long he stretched his imagination, Rukawa couldn't picture what Mitsui would look like working as a part-time waiter. This all the more instilled in him an intense desire to come and see for himself. And for the first time since he last saw Mitsui, he felt excitement and thrill well up inside him.

He closed their front gate behind him and braced himself for a long walk to Colonel's.

--

At Colonel's Diner, 4:48.

'I hope you don't mind.' Kogure was telling Sendoh. For lack of any vacant chairs to nestle themselves in, Kogure and Sakuragi ended up being forced to take theirs at Sendoh's table. But no sooner than he made himself comfortable when Sakuragi decided that Mitsui needed a dose of entertainment. The red-head then walked towards the counter in order to busy himself harassing the working Mitsui. At which, Sendoh and Kogure were left by themselves.

'No bother. There's plenty of space anyway.' Sendoh said, gesturing at the six-sitter table they were on. Critically surveying Kogure, he knew that they were danger of speaking as little as possible. He longed for Mitsui's shift to end. 'Hisashi will be done in a few minutes, I guess.'

'Yes. He'll be free by five o'clock. Anyway, I didn't know you've made friends.'

'We have, in fact. He invited me to this place.'

'Uh-huh. I can imagine that. He said he needed a job for his college fund.'

'He told me that too.' Sendoh replied defensively, as if to say he wasn't uninformed about any Mitsui-related information. By the blank looks he kept on casting on Kogure, it was not hard to tell that the conversation was boring him. Right now, he couldn't imagine himself in any serious or lively discourse with anyone besides Mitsui.

Just then, the entrance door swung open and in a spell Rukawa wordlessly announced himself simply just by being there. Eyes immediately feasted on him. Kogure smiled and waved at him. Sendoh's first instinct was to knit his brows. He was quite unready to be startled, hence his unrestrained astonishment. Rukawa wasn't exactly the person he wished for to rescue him out of a lethally monotonous talk. He knew that Rukawa was there for the same reason as Sendoh himself was and that was to see Mitsui. Rukawa made slow advances towards their table, determined not take a seat yet.

'I didn't know anything about an unspoken rendezvous. So, tell me about the gimmick,' Sendoh muttered then, his dismay increasing by a scale. It was bad enough that two of Mitsui's teammates would be around. But Rukawa's being there would simply be ruinous, a jeopardy. At this rate, Sendoh would have to work twice as hard to achieve Mitsui's undivided attention.

'Why are you here?' Rukawa's cold voice sprang up.

'Nobody said this party's exclusive for Shohoku members only, am I right? But if you really want to know Rukawa, Hisashi invited me.' Sendoh said, assuming a victorious smirk. He so badly wished Rukawa's surprise upon this revelation, but on the contrary Rukawa's face only retained its mask-like steadiness. It consequently dismantled Sendoh's cool.

There was a pause, which spelled trouble no less. Kogure, more than Sendoh and Rukawa, felt the tension heighten. He knew what ferocity these two were capable of when they were on court, and seeing that kind of ferocity in them off-court was a sight Kogure was certain to want to avoid. In his attempt to nip the pressure that was about to ensue, he blurted out,

'Well, I think nothing's going to prevent us from having a delectable meal. Why don't you have a seat, Rukawa?' Kogure smiled nervously. Rukawa obediently bent himself beside him.

After a few minutes more, Mitsui's time was up. He appeared from the personnel's locker room with Hanamichi close on his heels. To Rukawa's disappointment, Mitsui had now changed back to his casual clothes thereby upsetting Rukawa's side purpose of seeing Mitsui in his waiter uniform. As he and Sakuragi drew closer to the three, it appeared that he was engaged in a petty argument with the red-head.

'For the last time Hanamichi, the manager will fire me. I'm trying to earn a decent living here, and if you really care for me don't pester me.'

'Me? Pester you? Come on Mitchy, you were looking like you were gonna shoot yourself anytime you wanted to. You hate this job. Nobody who's seen you can deny you needed to be cheered up a little.'

'Cheering up, meaning, moral support or anything of the like; if it means mocking and brutally teasing me while I punch the bills, I haven't heard of it.'

'I wasn't doing anything like that. Gee, I think you need to go to the police and report the asshole who murdered your sense of humor.'

'Well, that would be you.'

They both halted at where Kogure, Sendoh and Rukawa were sitting. Mitsui seemed to have joined Sakuragi's shock upon bearing witness to Rukawa's presence. Sakuragi tuned up his volume and said,

'Oh, there seems to be an addition to the confederation of losers here. I didn't see you come in, Kitsune.'

'What do you mean by "losers"?' Instead of hearing Rukawa retaliate, Sakuragi found himself confronted by Sendoh.

'Don't pretend--'

'Don't mind this ape, Akira. Anyone who's not him is a loser to him.' Mitsui chided in.

'Mitchy, what are you saying? You're my one and only winner.' Sakuragi said, mimicking the voice of a certain bimbo he knew from somewhere.

'Whatever. Let's eat. I can murder a whole cow.'

Mitsui, obviously fatigued, collapsed on Rukawa's side, and Sakuragi had no choice but to occupy the one beside Sendoh. In time, they placed their orders and began satisfying their long-deprived stomachs. Mitsui spoke up,

'So Rukawa, you came.'

'You said I can come by anytime.'

'Yes, I'm so sorry. I just didn't know you'd take it seriously. You know…'

There was silence again, which was only interrupted by the loud, shameless clutter Sakuragi was making with his bowl. But Sendoh's eyes remained glued on Mitsui. On careful examination, Sendoh deduced a peculiar meaning from Mitsui's treatment of Rukawa. The look he gave the freshman was a speaking singularity, hard to ignore and easy to identify. He was sure it was the kind of regard one offers to another if he thinks him special, or worthy. At this thought, fine symptoms of jealousy abruptly descended on Sendoh. _Has Mitsui made a choice? Or would it be better to pay no credit to his actions as much as possible, yet? _

'So what are you two doing here?' Sakuragi suddenly burst. He set down his soup bowl and chopsticks, which produced a loud clang that sent other customers staring at him. Sendoh couldn't tell if he was thankful to Sakuragi for breaking the seemingly invincible ice.

'You talking to me?' Sendoh asked.

'I'm talking to you and Rukawa. You look like a bad case of desperation. Did your girlfriends just dump you? High school boys tend to eat their meals alone when they get ditched, you know. I should know. Anyway, in this case you'd have to thank Kogure and me for the company.' Sakuragi finished. His face sopped with haughtiness.

'Oh yeah, great reminder,' Sendoh mumbled under his breath, injecting himself with a dose of more than the prescribed caution. The potential truth that rang in Sakuragi's words was almost too much. What was he (Sendoh) doing there? To see Mitsui, of course. But beyond that? The ulterior? There had got to be something.

'So by definition, you've been dumped.' It was Mitsui's voice that rose, directed to Sakuragi. He was looking triumphant, vengeful. He hadn't yet forgiven Sakuragi for bullying him on the job.

'Naw. I don't know what you're blabbing about.' Sakuragi suddenly looked down as if a painful memory just occurred to him. Everyone remarked the sudden departure of his composure.

'You don't know? But you just sounded so familiarized with the subject. I mean, if I may say so… So, care to bring the skeleton out of the closet?' Kogure teased. Mitsui sniggered out loud with pure satisfaction. A few months ago, Miyagi Ryota, their captain, took the liberty of letting Mitsui in on a little secret: Sakuragi had been turned down by about fifty girls even before he reached senior high. The shocking news traveled fast at the hands of Mitsui and his friends. While the heat of the gossip lasted, Sakuragi was beyond consolation; when it died down, the thought continued to haunt him, as it had from the very beginning. Hence.

'Oh shut up, Megane-kun. Mitchy, you can go to hell.' Sakuragi quivered in white-hot fury.

'Well, you started it.' Mitsui smiled, appealing to the freshman's nonexistent rationality.

'Really, they can build a monument to your jerkness. I hate you.' Sakuragi went on fuming.

'That's you, bitter to the last. Come now Hanamichi, don't be a crybaby. You know you like me.'

At this, both Sendoh and Rukawa lifted their heads, alarmed, albeit to a small degree. Then, as chance would have it, their gazes linked. Sendoh read the indelicacy of Rukawa's stare, not liking a bit of it. It seemed to pronounce its victory and yet, how could he think that he had already outdone Sendoh? Doubt was slow to go in him and he simply resolved to comfort himself with the thought that Mitsui hadn't chosen yet. That's what mattered most.

'Rukawa, sometimes you just have to stand up against Sakuragi. He needs to learn once in a while.' Mitsui told Rukawa.

'Hai, sempai.' Rukawa replied. Mitsui smiled at him.

Sendoh almost lost control. _What brazen display of flirtation!_ He was incensed. It was well above his scope of comprehension, Mitsui's attitude was. It was riling, not to mention erratic. When just last week they seemed to have had a solid understanding, there at the Close-up Convention, now Mitsui was raising the odds in Rukawa's favor, showering the latter with undue attention, neglecting Sendoh as though he were a dirty rag doll. _What is this, a seesaw game?_ Goddamn it! For the first time, Sendoh had a grasp of the bitterness of an unequally returned affection.

But although his thoughts ran along those lines, on the surface, Sendoh only waxed mildly agitated. He shunted his clasped hands on the table, faithfully preserving the fake grin on his face, and foisting good-humor on himself when it was almost impossible to do so. This meeting had become by turns absurd and annoying. There was no privacy at all. He couldn't get Mitsui all to himself. Worse, he never seemed to catch Sendoh's eyes and Sendoh just wished they just kept missing each other. His insanity and jealousy were so close together that he could no longer tell them apart. Surely, the fight wasn't yet decidedly over?

'Sendoh, how's your captainship going?' Kogure then turned to Sendoh, who still hadn't quite gotten over the disturbance.

'Yeah, I've been meaning to ask that. How's Ryonan?' Mitsui added, inclining his head toward Sendoh. Sendoh's inner turmoil abated a little and he was earnest to calm down when he answered,

'Quite alright. Every so often I'd go to Uozomi for advice. He'd give them away excellently. I enjoy being a team leader.' At this point, to his comfort, his thoughts divided, giving way to complacence. At least, Mitsui was aware he still existed.

The exchange slash interview went on, with everyone taking part in it, even Sakuragi who, because he couldn't be shushed, was tolerated to brag all he pleased. Rukawa offered a minimal role as usual, and Mitsui and Kogure did the most part of the talking. In time, the five of them unanimously decided to leave the place. It was still early when they did so and the night ahead called for further skylarking. Both Mitsui and Sakuragi suggested that they all see a film at S Theater House but only Kogure seemed willing enough to linger around.

Forsooth, Sendoh and Rukawa could no longer withstand the sight of each other what with all the circumstances forcing them on each other's company. One more minute together and who knows what explosion might happen between both of them. Thus, they came by a common solution that was carried through mere mutual understanding. Both declined the movie offer on account of a domestic errand they had to run. Because neither was about to allow the other to spend extra time with Mitsui, it was settled that they both should forgo the opportunity. At approximately 7 p.m. Mitsui, Sakuragi and Kogure hailed a taxi to take them to the movie house. Sendoh and Rukawa watched the car zoom off, leaving them standing still on the pavement.

'So, it's you and me again, Rukawa.'

Rukawa just glanced at Sendoh. The night was darker and longer, as a result of what is called a winter solstice. The air was dry, almost unendurably cold, but none as cold as Rukawa's stare.

'Well, I guess time will tell.' Sendoh smiled, uttered his farewell and bowing to Rukawa, turned away. He thought of today's episode, rating it as almost pointless. He didn't get the private moment he strove to have with Mitsui; instead, he received the icky feeling of envy and jealousy, which was nowhere near what he predicted as the worst that could happen. He wished, rather than believed, that Mitsui would make the right choice, the choice he deserved. He still held fast to hope; though his behavior varied, his firmness did not. He hoped that for his part Mitsui would exert more effort to acknowledge his generous admiration. And as he looked back at Mitsui's attention to Rukawa that afternoon, he painstakingly swore it would be the last time he remembered it.

TBC

A/N: yeah, I know. This fic should instead be titled 'Everybody's Jealous'. Hahahaha. Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

sThe Boy is Mine

Disclaimer: I don't own SD boys, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway.

A/N: This is for **ivybluesummers**. Really, nowadays, I only upload my crap at your bidding. Haha! When are you writing SD fics again? As for me, this may as well be my final exit. All my muses have gone along with my ability to write anything halfway presentable. I could only wish the opposite is true of you. Write more, okay?

Chapter IV

When Sendoh Akira opened his e-mail account that morning, there was only one unread message. It was a beautiful morning, the kind on which nothing portended to ever go wrong. The sky was sunny, the temperature bearable, the birds were chirping somewhat to a cheery melody et cetera, et cetera. His mom even did him the kindness of delivering a hearty breakfast to his room. Its aromatic flavor filled the air until Sendoh decided to eat it before it got cold. His favorite socks were safe in his drawer. His windbreaker had just been washed yesterday and smelled of the lovely scent of fabric softener. In short, everything was quite perfect. That is, until he opened his e-mail account and found the ridiculously succinct message.

'He's going to ditch you and I'll be there when it happens.'

Now that's some kind of warning he hadn't received in all his seventeen years. He couldn't as of yet figure out to which category it fell in; was it on the vengeful side or on the jealous side? Or both? As far as he could make out, the sender seemed hostile. With his eyes still a bit groggy from sleep, he guided the cursor to the back button, making sure that he read the address of the sender right. The name apparently read KR and the address was ravenhairedrookieoftheyear at hotmail dot com. Now Sendoh only knew one person with those initials; what's more, he could only think of one person who had such pressing business with him and that was none other than Rukawa, his archrival. As for the raven-haired rookie of the year thing, it only proved what type of dimwit Rukawa really was: Severe.

Hastily, he clicked on the reply button. In a few minutes, he came up with this kind of reply: And he's going to take me back, which is soon enough. And guess what? He'd never even think twice about ignoring you so long as I exist. Hahahaha!

_Honestly, who's going to fancy Rukawa when I'm around? _

Sendoh then sent his reply quickly, as if afraid he was going to change his mind. He was a bit rattled by the message; part of his annoyance being, he just hated to take cheek from someone younger, someone who had severe insecurity issues and evidently less than he was. It was unthinkable.

After that, he took a shower, brushed his teeth, put on his best Saturday clothes and phoned in Koshino to say that he was going to be late for practice. He didn't offer excuses and neither was he earnest to let his best friend in on the topic of Rukawa. Somehow, he knew that his small circle of confidence didn't deserve so delicate a gossip.

At nine o'clock on the dot, he went out of his bedroom, promising himself a happy day.

--

Rukawa, a regular late-comer, roused at around eight-thirty in the morning on the same day. Seeing that it wasn't yet near nine a.m., he decided to pursue his narcoleptic urges further. Thirty minutes later he dragged himself out of bed like a zombie, doing his hygiene in the most robotic and sluggish manner. After shower, breakfast and toothbrush he made his way to his computer table and checked his e-mail account. He had just sent Sendoh a missive which in essence told him to stay the hell away from Mitsui. Now Rukawa had been too long accustomed to hoarding thoughts he'd never planned of releasing but lately, the situation he'd been in had quite called for certain measures that should include strong opinions.

That is mainly why he had to defect that kind of message to Sendoh.

He had received a message—a reply in particular--from a Spike Dude, whose e-mail address went like this: spikey007 at hotmail dot com. The message read: 'And he's going to take me back, which is soon enough. And guess what? He'd never even think twice about ignoring you so long as I exist. Hahahaha!' It noticeably dripped of immaturity and insecurity. Insofar as both were concerned, Sendoh was the only person who sat well with them.

Of course he figured it out right away that it had to be from Sendoh and that is, despite his limited intellectual capacity. Rukawa then scuffled through the keys with greedy apprehension, thinking distractedly of what to fire back. It wasn't because he had no idea what to say; it was because he had too many things to say to this jerk. After a reasonable period of time he came up with this:

'Shall we see then?'

That was the long and short of it. In his heart of hearts, he didn't see any need to see further; he knew exactly well that, in the long run, Mitsui's heart belonged to him. Alone.

He loved to keep his title as a man of few words. And kept by it, he did exceptionally well. At ten o'clock, Rukawa headed straight to Shohoku basketball gym. The sky outside was very much like the sky on the day he first saw Mitsui. It was nostalgic and dreamy.

--

It was a scene of usual disarray. Ryota Miyagi, still a struggling spanking new captain, found it hard to keep the players in one straight line. If he hadn't been hiring the team manager's help, he'd be school history before long. The center of the commotion always came from one person only: Sakuragi Hanamichi, who, as Rukawa liked to put it, was the coach's biggest, most reckless mistake. In fact right at that moment, when the team should be busy with a hustling practice match, they were still midway through the stretching and warm up routine. That was because Sakuragi was stealing the captain's attention once in a while and delaying orders.

When Sakuragi was there, you could count on peace and order to vanish on the spot. And all the team had to rely on was luck because with any luck, Sakuragi might have disturbed bowel movement and be sent straight to the infirmary.

Rukawa entered the gym in this state. He need not explain why he was late; Miyagi knew exactly why and strangely tolerated it. Ayako was like-minded and so was the assistant manager, the Akagi girl. By then, it was almost time to commence the fated rehearsal match. For lack of anything good to wear, Rukawa put on his loyal short shorts and navy blue tank top. This often merited Sakuragi's merciless taunts, which he had to endure all throughout the day. If someone like Mitsui didn't interfere, Rukawa would have very good reasons to teach the saru a lesson. As it was, Mitsui always interfered, however arbitrary the circumstances were, and always managed to apologize on his friend's behalf.

Sometimes Rukawa thought that that's precisely why he loved Mitsui. Sometimes, he thought that no other emotion equaled the love he had for the senior.

"Okay, team up! Five minutes, go!"

They teamed up. In about forty minutes, the game ended, with Rukawa's team on the winning end. Rukawa almost immediately combed the crowd to earn Mitsui's congratulatory greeting. Lately, it had been the senior's tradition to pitch a nice word or two to Rukawa each time the latter stuck it out. Upon closing in on the senior, who smiled good-naturedly at him, Rukawa fixed his face in what must've been an earnest display of flippancy. Holding back was a very important part of the challenge. He shouldn't give himself away at any rate.

"Oh, Rukawa," Mitsui smiled at him in a very disarming way. His white teeth flashed, taking the attention away from his sweat-pelted cheeks. "It was a good game you had there."

Rukawa nodded. Just then he felt his heart exploding, or else beating in and out of his rib cage.

"Next time, why don't we team up together? It would be nice to have you on my boat once in a while."

"Sure, sempai." Rukawa said in an effort to quell a smile. But being in the same team with Mitsui clearly meant less reason to come in physical contact with him. Naturally, that would be a minus for Rukawa.

Rukawa, thinking that Mitsui would trail him to the shower room, made his way there leisurely. Upon reaching the entrance door, however, he noticed that he was quite alone. He consequently scanned his surrounding and, after careful examination, his eyes tumbled upon Mitsui who was now standing before the gym's door, seeming to have an animated chatter with someone. Yes, he wasn't by himself. In fact he was with some tall guy whose conspicuous height was furthered by spiky strands of hair, which alone made the stranger simply stand out.

It was Sendoh Akira, paying the senior a visit. Until Sendoh's arrival, Rukawa felt pretty much complacent, out of harm's way. But now all feelings that lead to relaxation disappeared within him and feeling nothing but honest consternation, he decided to watch the scene, even if it meant pain. So he halted completely on his tracks, thinking that if there was a time to put his best foot forward, that was it. He watched the two gibe away in open delight for some time, at least enough time to scorch Rukawa's inside with fury. Sendoh was wearing a smile and Rukawa was instantly made jealous by the thoughts Sendoh might've had to make him smile like this. That was it.

Then something almost comforting happened: Miyagi joined the duo. That was good because knowing Miyagi and all the things he had to do and think of as a bona fide captain, there was no playing with him. No way he'd let those two flirt in front of him. The three seemed to be engaged in some kind of semi-serious conversation. Every so often Miyagi would nod and laugh a bit. Mitsui played little part in the talk while Sendoh did most of it. What they were spraffing about, Rukawa could only imagine. Surely Miyagi wouldn't conspire against him? Surely he didn't know anything about the heated spell of love Mitsui had clouded over both Sendoh and Rukawa? Whatever scandal Sendoh had been dreaming of lately?

Then the threesome broke apart in the most amiable manner and not, to Rukawa's dismay, in a conversational blackout. Sendoh went away and Miyagi and Mitsui made their way to the shower room. As they drew near Rukawa, the latter pretended to look for his water bottle among the steel chairs.

"Rukawa." he heard Mitsui's voice call him.

"Sempai?" Rukawa turned around, slowly retreating from his sociopath corner. Miyagi zoomed straight to the showers, leaving the two the privacy they needed.

"Sendoh just proposed a practice match. Shohoku versus Ryonan, maybe on Tuesday. The captain already agreed, heartily if I may say so. What do you think?"

"Good." _No, it was this bloody far from being good. In fact, it was very badly timed. _

"Yeah, that's the spirit." Mitsui grinned at him. By the way he said it, it seemed as though he was the one who accepted the offer heartily. "Let's go inside."

"I need to go outside, sempai." Rukawa said.

Mitsui frowned at him slightly as if wondering what odd business Rukawa could possibly have outside the gym on a Saturday morning. He reluctantly nodded at the freshman and followed Miyagi's suit.

Rukawa set out almost at once and waded his way to the streets as fast as he could. He turned over his head what Mitsui just broke to him. Nothing in the form of a brainwave ever transpired to him that Sendoh would go as far as petitioning for a stupid practice match. Huh. If the hedgehog thought that he'd kidnap Mitsui's heart by offering a practice match, he was very gravely mistaken. It would take a lot more than that to gain his intimacy. Or so Rukawa wanted to think.

He continued hurrying to the pavement, his legs sweating profusely and his muscles flexed by the sheer effort of sprinting. Outside, the wind vibrated along and the sunlight fell to the ground with a kind of irresistible gentleness. At the curve near around the west end of Shohoku, he saw Sendoh, who apparently was in no urgency to get back to Ryonan High. He was humming nonchalantly to a popular tune until Rukawa said "hey."

"Uhm, Kaede." Sendoh rounded on him. Rukawa didn't back away; instead he stood even more erectly. To Sendoh, it was like seeing a snake uncoil to draw out its full length.

Rukawa administered an accusing glare which Sendoh didn't miss. Far from being able to reveal his motives, Rukawa simply went on glaring without saying anything.

"I know. It's about why I was at your gym a while ago." Sendoh hazarded a smile; nothing in that smile suggested that he had something blowing to say to Rukawa. "Really, I thought Hisashi cared enough about you to say something about it. Clearly, I was wrong."

"He told me. I want to know why you did it."

"Simple. I want a harmonious relationship with Shohoku High; you know, to be on perfect terms with you all (yes, even with you), unlike last season. As captain, I'm advised to accomplish just that. You don't think I went all the way there just to stare at Hisashi for ten minutes, do you?" He seemed to say that that's the kind of thing Rukawa would do.

"Bullshit."

"Yeah, I'm afraid you'd have to swallow that, Kaede."

"For the last time, stay away from him."

Something in Sendoh's eyes flickered before he muttered, "Never." And he said it with a stubbornness no hammer could crush.

Rukawa, clearly on the verge of stress, didn't say anything for a spell. Sendoh was being bitchier than he ever gave him credit for. Really, he was getting more than annoying! Rukawa felt the tension run high; he felt the need to prevent this encounter from becoming an overheated argument magnify. Rukawa's anger lunged deeper as he took note of every movement Sendoh made. It was Sendoh who recommenced the talk.

"Look, I'm sorry that we have to fight for the same guy. And I'm even more sorry that I've gone further up the race. Now, now, don't give me that look. Hisashi isn't something to be shared; he needs to be kept by one person only. And that lucky person is me, of course." Sendoh proclaimed as though reciting a lyric of a very familiar song.

Not a second sooner than he said this when Rukawa started to walk away. It wasn't because he felt anything in the likeness of a loss, but because he was beginning to see the pointlessness of it all. On the other hand, Sendoh felt obliged to extend his courtesy, namely by running after the younger boy.

"Wait, this should be a fair game Kaede. I don't want anybody to get hurt, even you. Now don't do something crazy like-"

"Kill myself? You're the one who's going to do that." Rukawa said a matter-of-factly, his expression almost blank. Sendoh flinched a little at these words, which were too deceiving they almost convinced Sendoh himself.

"No, nothing of the kind will happen. I assure you. I wonder why you said that?" Sendoh added.

"Because he already chose for himself. You're just too dumb to see it." Rukawa said. If he was lying, he turned out to be very good at it.

"Preposterous. It's not like Hisashi's going to play with anyone's feelings, is it?"

Rukawa paused. That wasn't entirely true; in fact, Mitsui seemed to be the perfect type to trample, knot and play with other people's feelings. Sendoh hardly knew him, yet.

"You don't know him. I do."

"Wait," Sendoh hastened to say, not too eager to be ignored. The tables seemed to have turned; at this point, retaining a straight face seemed an uneasy feat. "His feelings are not his to throw away or not. And even if he didn't choose me, there's still the fact that he seems to like me better than anyone else, whoever the candidates are. We have this chemistry, understanding, so to speak. I'm saying, maybe he'd choose you but his heart stays with me. That isn't a bold assumption if you consider the situation. And as far as I'm concerned he does find me fascinating."

"You wish." Rukawa spat, doing his utmost to look unpleasant. _And what would that make me? His idolatrous object of worship?_

"I don't think I need to wish any more."

"I would if I were you. Sempai is really fickle-minded." Rukawa uttered, now starting to feel at a loss for excuses. He had quite reached the point where he was willing to do anything just to take Sendoh out of the picture. Make no mistake about that.

"I'm pretty sure I'm missing your meaning. It seems that you're the one who knows nothing about him. With you, I could only wish to be a bit more understanding."

Rukawa harrumphed. Indeed, he left so much to be said. But the difficulty of explaining the situation to this moron in front of him far exceeded anything else and hence, he chose not to bother anymore. He twisted his head toward where he came from, ready to depart the snaffle. He couldn't stand Sendoh's presence either on court or off court. And the animosity hadn't felt stronger before.

"I'm going." he said, too sure of himself, and not half caring if he possessed the righteous way of loving the senior, whatever the fuck that is. He cleared off.

In half a moment Sendoh was left alone to deal with the beautiful weather and some words to remember. He looked upward, into the sky, into the swarm of migrating birds, not knowing what else to say to himself. Then he felt that the impressions Rukawa left were as lasting as the shapes of the clouds.

--

When Rukawa returned to Shohoku, everyone else had left. Even Miyagi who always made it a point to leave after everyone had gone was nowhere in sight. The janitor wouldn't be back until Monday which left Rukawa really, really alone. He rummaged through his bag, fishing out the necessities one by one. He then looked around him: The place's silence unnerved him as if something would come out of it and grab him away. Yet, he might as well be one of the moons of Jupiter, perpetually detached. He dashed to the shower, not really liking the idea of a bath which was as good as any other. But he went nonetheless. Leaving the building, with his body bag slung on his shoulder, he heard a soft rustle behind him. He turned to see who it was as he received the shock of the day.

"I was looking for you a while ago. Care for a walk?" It was Mitsui, all dried up and good to go. His offer was almost apathetic, perfunctory that Rukawa could hardly suspect anything.

"Alright." Rukawa replied. The prospect of a walk thrilled him inside such that he could hardly look at Mitsui.

That's when it happened, as surreal as a predestined encounter. If agreeing was any invitation to be that close to Mitsui, or to be snogged off guard, Rukawa didn't see it. For all he knew, the "walk" turned out to be something else altogether, for even before they left Shohoku on that wonderful morning, Mitsui pulled Rukawa to him, close enough to hear his breathing and to see his nearly microscopic skin pores, and kissed him with all the hungriness of a half-starved predator. Rukawa closed his eyes. _If this wasn't a dream, it must be something that happened a long, long time ago._

This time, there was no holding back.

TBC

A/N: No, wait! Don't go just yet. I have an idea about what's going to happen next. One that will shake Rukawa off his wits. You just wait. Okay? I know this is sloppily written but let me make up for the next upload. Thanks for reading.


	5. Chapter 5

The Boy is Mne

Disclaimer: I don't own SD boys, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway.

A/N: First of all, I want to thank all those who reviewed and those who still find time to read this. I'm uploading this next chapter in such a short notice because I don't want the idea to disappear around the bend, just like many times before. I think that's the reason why I've had lapses before and yeah, what a total bitch that is. In any case, buckle up for a long and lonely chapter.

Chapter V

To veer away from the standard cliché, Rukawa wouldn't say that it was like a dream. Of course he had occasional urges to dub it as a "dream come true" but the truth was, as his inner feelings dictated, it was more than just a dream come true.

In fact, in recalling the event, he could barely associate himself with the person who participated in the kiss. Indeed, it was like watching somebody else perform it. And yet, somehow, he was that person. And more importantly, it wasn't a dream.

It had been two days since the landmark event. The nameless flavor of the kiss still lingered on his tongue and the afterglow shone even brighter. It wasn't the kind of kiss that could be erased/remedied by one good night's sleep; in Rukawa's case, it had been two sleepless nights.

So in the morning, he parked his bike in front of the Shohoku building, at the safest distance to the entrance door. According to the gym policies there was no practice game that day, as it was Monday. The school administration wanted to allot enough study time for athletes, only it failed to register to them that athletes never ever helped themselves academically. Unless it was Gori or Kogure, both of whom being too careful to make the most of their free hours by reviewing. Contrarily, Rukawa spent his time trying to regain his lost sleep during lectures.

From morning onwards he didn't come across Mitsui. He kept himself calm then, recalling that normally, outside team practices, he didn't bump into the senior whose classroom was located two floors below the freshmen's. Upon dismissal he descended immediately to the ground floor, his bike's padlock jangling inside his pants' pocket. He carefully released the chains, eventually boarding on the vehicle when somebody from behind him called his name.

"Rukawa,"

Rukawa turned around to see who the owner of the hearty greeting was.

It was Kiminobu Kogure sporting his perpetual appearance. He had on his pair of shiny glasses and a set of books was tucked under his arm. His uniform was speck-less, perfectly ironed and neatly buttoned up to the neck. Again, the senior's relaxed posture was something to envy and Rukawa wasn't quick to ignore this.

"Sempai." Rukawa replied, hoping that the exchange started and ended there.

"I was wondering if you could come with me." The older boy said. Rukawa stared at him for a moment. Lately their paths always seemed bound to intersect. It was sub-normal enough, but what was far odder was Kogure's wistful looks. As Rukawa couldn't find any excuse to decline and knowing that the senior couldn't possibly mean any harm, he agreed. Subsequently, he unlatched himself from his bike, following the senior as they ploughed their way through the pavement. The afternoon was kind of cool and breezy. The winds overlapped each other and the night threatened to dawn at them at any time.

They entered the park which was invariably teeming with young and rosy-looking people. All this time, none of both had ventured to speak. At first Rukawa had no idea where they were going, nor did he bother to question the senior. But as they neared the place, it became quite clear that Kogure didn't just happen to be where Rukawa was. None of it was accidental and in fact, Kogure sought him out. They sat down in the bench facing the fountain. All around them, the atmosphere had begun to change. The sun was about to sink, the current of the wind smoother and the clouds vanishing into the background of semi-darkness.

"How are you feeling, Rukawa?" Kogure said quietly, as though expecting the other to open up.

Rukawa uttered something close to a grunt, which the senior took as a "Fine."

"Well, I wouldn't recommend him." Kogure said just then.

Rukawa leveled his gaze to the fountain. At this point, he had give or take an outline as to how this talk was going to end up. The patterns of the cobbled steps, the current of the waters, the alternate splashes of the wind all pointed to one thing.

"Who?"

"Mitsui."

"Well?" Rukawa said, giving his best to absorb the scenario. Was Kogure another rival for Mitsui's love? Was he there to prevent Rukawa from getting close to Mitsui? If he was, Mitsui proved to be more popular than Rukawa led himself to believe. And as he thought of it, he realized that it wasn't that far from happening. After all, if there was one person who was most accustomed to Mitsui and his irrational behavior, it was the person sitting beside him.

"Well?" Kogure echoed Rukawa. "I'm no fool when it comes to things like this. I've seen the way you look at him and I could only wish that you'd give as much thought to yourself. You see, Mitsui has these certain tendencies."

"What do you mean?" Rukawa almost snapped. He couldn't as of yet grasp Kogure's motive; if he cared about Rukawa's well-being, that was understandable. But if he was going to slander Mitsui, that would be incomprehensible.

"I don't know. He can hardly decide for himself. And often, when he does the right thing, there's always trouble behind it. Large amount of it. Now think if you get involved with--"

"Do you want him too?" Rukawa blurted out before he could stop himself. He couldn't think of anything else that would make Kogure say those things unless they shared the same feelings for Mitsui, and what a normal thing that was to have in common. He waited for an answer; the longer he stayed with the senior, the clearer it got that it was an error to join him for a little talk in the park.

Kogure let out a little laugh. As he did so, his shoulders shivered for a bit. He then shook his head gently, humorously, as though Rukawa just said something very ignorant and funny. It took him long before he knew where to begin.

"I don't think we have identical problems here, Rukawa." he said.

"Then why say this?" Rukawa said. He was standing up to Kogure, holding on to his obstinacy for whatever it was going to be worth. _Who the hell does he think he is to convert me? _There was an accusing glint in his eyes.

"Oh, brother." Kogure said rather nervously. He got the message loud and clear alright. "Let me first go on record saying that Mitsui is hardly my type, and you even less, which goes to say that I wouldn't interfere with your affairs if my intentions were to snag either of you. As you may very well know, Mitsui remains one of my great friends. Yes, even if you consider our vast differences. I wouldn't dare credit him for anything less than the truth. You do know that he has something going on with that guy from Ryonan, Sendoh?"

"Yes." Rukawa muttered his infamous monotone. While Kogure must've been a man of many talents, it was quite apparent that convincing wasn't among them.

"Well, there you go." Kogure smiled.

"He doesn't love him."

"I wouldn't put it that way. Not when our subject's mind is as alterable as your mood. Besides, 'love' is a strong word, almost nonnegotiable. Do you think it matters at the present if he loves Sendoh or not? And if he doesn't, what advantage is that to you?" Kogure phrased, his words begging to be pondered right away. For a seemingly will-less person, he was very well-versed in the world.

Rukawa zipped his mouth closed, resigned to speechlessness for as long as Kogure could possibly bear. There was a depthless silence that cut invisibly between them. He rewinded his thoughts to two days back when Mitsui surprised him with what he termed as the dreamy kiss. It wasn't a guarantee that love was present there, or that it would be present in the future. Rukawa was in love with Mitsui, that was given, but did that love deserve to be reciprocated? Or better yet, did Mitsui deserve being in love with?

"Listen, I'm rather inclined to be sorry to know that you have feelings for him. Some people can't help being attracted to Mitsui, as a person. Yes, he is very charming, indeed more charming than actually...er... how do I put this? Handsome? Maybe. At any rate, Rukawa, I think there's a great need for you to know that Mitsui isn't a one-man person. Judging from the way he treats both you and Sendoh, there's a huge deal going on inside him. On the surface, he must seem something else; underneath, there's no telling."

"I don't think I know where you're getting at, sempai."

"But you do remember the manner in which he returned to the basketball club?"

"Yes."

"He had to be beaten up badly before he saw things in the right light and that's not to add the two years he spent being wasted in between. It was like he was fluttering on each side, losing his grip from a solid identity. Do you get why I mean?"

"Maybe."

"I hope you mean the best by that." Kogure said. "You see, times are hard for him, harder than he'd prefer to show. Sometimes he does things without worrying about the consequences. Along the way, he hurts people. He does, in all truths. All you have to do is open your eyes."

"You seem to know much about him." Rukawa offered. True; if Kogure could speak of Mitsui that way, it would have to mean that their relationship was more or less intimate.

"Much, and more." Kogure mumbled. Even without words, his knowledge seemed to have been etched in his eyes, and what choice did everyone have but take his word for it?

"You haven't answered me. Why are you telling me this?" Rukawa said as he summoned up the courage to ask.

Kogure emitted a tired sigh. "I've been there, been shown around and back." he said slowly, as though he'd been explaining the same long thing for countless times now.

"You just said he's not your type." Rukawa muttered. He hoped he wouldn't appear too convinced but at this rate, any attempt at indifference was quite futile.

"No, not anymore." Kogure faced the freshman. There was sympathetic, almost hurt look on his face and if it wasn't for the semi-darkness of the sky, Rukawa would've been liable to witness something much more dramatic. "It wasn't because of what he did to me, but because of what he did not. Mitsui... he gives you the impression that he has something special for you. And who knows if he really does. But right in the end he breaks you, without knowing it. He goes on as carefree as ever and for that, you nearly couldn't blame him. Who would? If you ask me, he scarcely knows how many hearts he's breaking."

"You didn't get angry with him?" Rukawa said and in thus doing, he showed more interest than he ever did all throughout the conversation.

"No. I couldn't afford to be angry. Do you think I would go on being tight friends with him had I been half furious? Not a chance. Instead, I was angry with myself. Maybe I still am, lord knows. I'm just glad that's all behind me. And geez, it wasn't an easy thing to do, trying to get over. Definitely not something a nice coffee table talk could repair."

"I understand." Rukawa replied. He didn't intend to agree; those words, they just came out as though his insides were bursting to spit them out. All this time he had been trying so hard to dole out the most appropriate responses to Kogure's remarks. In retrospect, being honest was the only way to get out of it alive. And yes, he understood now what Kogure had been dying to say to him, what he tried to hide behind his back but couldn't, after all.

"That's great to hear. Since he and Sendoh got together, he'd been absent many times. But let's give him the benefit of the doubt; just because he's often out of sight doesn't mean they're together as often. I only hope Mitsui hadn't yet done to you what he's done to him."

"Did he dump him already?" Rukawa said, rather more quickly than he'd expected. His temples began to beat with a barrage of guesses, some too horrid to remember.

"Not quite." Kogure frowned. "I walked in on them making out two--three days ago. I was to deliver some reviewers on Trigonometry, if my memory serves. And there they were, in the living room..." Seeing that Rukawa's face had turned whiter than a drained carcass', the senior fumbled. "Anyway, it's getting dark. Let's go."

Thus was the manner in which Kogure offered Rukawa his salvation; in a very peaceful, very wise way. They both stood up, each more pensive than they'd arrived. It had gotten really dark, so much so that they couldn't see anything but obscure glimpses of each other.

So that was Mitsui. That dog who'd wiggle one's feelings as though they were a stick or some inanimate, thoughtless, emotionless object he could easily smash to pieces in front of anybody. That was Mitsui, the good-looking charming guy who had nothing else to complement his cuteness. He was exactly the kind of bastard who'd fiercely make out with whomever he pleased and forget about it the very next day, hour or even moment.

Rukawa scowled in the dark. He felt like he'd been whacked in the head by a lightning rod, ready to tumble unto an utter daze. At this point, so many emotions fused within him; anger, guilt, jealousy, each one less distinguishable from the next.

It was the beginning of his fight against himself. And as all beginnings are, it had to thrive in confusion.

--

Time flew by like dolphins as the following day rapidly arrived. Rukawa got up from his bed, mechanically, and refused to remember what had been put to light yesterday. He wished he could easily turn into an appliance, which could be switched off any time of the day, abandoning all memories. But it wouldn't go away, that bit about Mitsui, when it was the memory he would've killed for just to forget. But can't one way or another.

As thus appointed, the practice game against Ryonan was to be held in the next fifteen minutes. Rukawa wasn't late for the first time. In one of the benches neatly positioned along the sidelines, he sat, not entirely brooding, but simply being there, like a blank, like a human-shaped gap where a presence should've been. On the hardwood were his team mates, all of whom were in their faithful practice apparel with the same forced excitement on their faces when in fact, deep inside, they were frightened to death of the up and coming practice match. Or at least, most of them were. In any event, Rukawa didn't feel the need to join the blunder-ridden masquerade. He was quite content in quietly criticizing his team mates' clowny attempts to make baskets. And nothing quite topped that contentment other than Sakuragi.

"Check this out, Mitchy!" the red-head burst out from the center. He was smack in the middle of the court, limbs positioned for a long jumper and arms raised; on the zenith of the tower he made was a basketball.

"What are you doing?" the senior asked.

"Well, just in case I'm stuck fast at a buzzer beater, and I'm too far gone from the basket, and I have the ball like this... I will..." soon as Sakuragi mumbled the last syllables, he released the ball from his clumsy clutches. It traveled in an almost straight arc through the air, zipped past the target and flew right through the window. Outside could be heard a clutter of metals, predictably sequeled by a series of cats' meows.

"Yeah. That's really, uh, let's see...heroic. It will save us from losing, that will." Mitsui was grinning and upon seeing that Sakuragi was returning his smile, he added, "Anyway what I'm trying to say is, that sucked shit. You're breaking my heart. Your shooting makes me want to kill myself. And if you ever try doing that in the game, you'll have all of us to answer to."

"Geez, I was only trying. Why don't you do it then?" Sakuragi retorted in a much changed attitude.

"I won't pretend to be good at half-court shots, you know. But I sure do stand a better chance than you."

"You think so? Why don't we see how far you could go? I bet you'd faint after that anyway."

"At least I'd faint knowing that I made a prettier gun than yours."

"Why don't you try it NOW?" Sakuragi said peevishly.

"Hell, I hate to decline a challenge... hand me a ball, Hanamichi."

Sakuragi sent a ball flying to him with a deliberately full force. Mitsui caught it just in time to keep his face from being squashed by its leathery surface.

"Okay, there are around a million ways to do this shot and only two or three of them could work. Which is what I'm about to show you. Just stand back and watch how I position myself. You'd get around to making nearer misses if you gather more momentum from your knees-"

"I'm not stupid, you know. Get on." Sakuragi spat.

"Rightie. Be sure you watch me from there," Mitsui said. He bent his knees a little afterwards, raised the ball past his head and tossed it at perfect timing. Upon releasing the shot, his hands stayed poised for a moment but as his soles landed on the floor with a graceful thud, his arms fell on his sides. In a second he stood in his ordinary posture. Away from him, at exactly the same time, the ball traced the air, making a shape that resembled a well-formed ant hill. As it floated forth in less speed than Sakuragi's shot, it bounced on the rim and almost came in contact with the net. It was almost a beautiful shot had it not missed by a few inches.

"Ha!" Sakuragi roared victoriously.

"At least it didn't hit the garbage cans."

"Stop making lame excuses for your lame-ass self. If I had known better, Mitchy, you're just too tired to make a decent basket--"

"Honestly, Hanamichi, I'd rather make ten thousand of those misses than to shoot like you do, even for once."

"Oh yeah? You mean it's okay if I go on calling you lame-ass so long as I make shitty shots like that? Wow, Mitchy, I didn't know you are that entertaining. No problem." And a pointless rude exchange ran its course. All the while Rukawa was rolling his eyes, scorning the immaturity exhibited in the daft act. And yet, wasn't Mitsui awesome when he did that? When he taunted Sakuragi in that nonchalant, oblivious manner?

The gym's door boomed open just then. The morning sunlight sloped in, making the floor glitter with much more intensity. It didn't last long, however, as the shadows and silhouettes of Ryonan High Basketball team members began looming at the portal. Rukawa was successfully snapped out of his reverie as the whole team involuntarily rested their attention to the door. Even Sakuragi and Mitsui who formerly weren't about to give up on their bicker turned to look. At the frontline was Sendoh Akira, looking much taller than he really was. Thanks to the hairstyle. On either side of him were Uekusa and Koshino, who apparently was just made sub-captain and looking quite full of himself. All the members were wearing their darker jerseys, no doubt to signify their identity as the guest opponents.

"Welcome, Ryonan." Ayako moved toward them. Close behind was Miyagi who immediately made his way to Sendoh. They chatted for a while, as if tackling a diplomatic topic and broke apart. The Ryonan team made their way to the other end of the bench line where they started removing their varsity jackets.

"Okay, game starts in a few minutes." Miyagi was saying. There was a nervous look on his face. "Now, just because we beat them in the league doesn't warrant their defeat the second time around. Remember, Ryonan is a very able team."

"Yeah, more like faggots--" Sakuragi interjected but a paper whack behind his head swiftly did the trick. Instead, he resigned himself to stroking the spot.

"Now I will advise you to put on a clean play. Sendoh and his team are doing us a favor. They don't have business to be here or to be helping us; but they chose to, which is really generous of them. Anyone," Miyagi paused and directed his gaze to Sakuragi, "who's caught doing something off the wall shall have something to say to me, and it'd better be good. Otherwise... Alright, go prepare yourselves." Miyagi finished. The members were suddenly scuttling to and fro, their panic finally rearing its head. Miyagi then took off the whistle from around his neck and handed it out to Mitsui.

"As was the deal, you go referee the game. I say, do it with utmost objectivity and don't go teasing Sakuragi while you're at it. The guy's having a hard enough time without you--"

"Jesus, captain. You think I'd mess up with Sakuragi on court? I don't want to die just yet." Mitsui replied, smiling.

"Okay, okay. It's just that, you know. He gets nervous. And if we're not too careful, he'd curse the hell out of these people again. But don't give him too many technical fouls for that. Just do it like always, Mitsui."

"Sure. This is not my first time to officiate a match. Thought I'd just remind you." Mitsui winked at Miyagi and turned to the folding chair in which, incidentally, Rukawa was seated nearby.

"Hey, why so quiet?" Mitsui asked Rukawa who had half the mind to reply to such an idle greeting. Then the latter noticed that Mitsui was randomly picking up water bottles from the floor and as fate would have it, he'd grabbed the bottle which Rukawa half-gulped to the bottom just a few minutes ago.

"That's mine." Rukawa informed him. He had been accustomed to Mitsui's chronic habit of misplacing his own mineral water and clearly, this time, he was manifesting the same mistake. But Rukawa wasn't about to allow the grossness, not especially when Mitsui had taken to the ritual of French-kissing Sendoh.

"Sorry. I'm thirsty. I hope you don't mind." Mitsui said indifferently. Before Rukawa could stop him, the senior already emptied the bottle to the last drop. "Anyway, I suggest you put on your jersey now. Match's about to begin any moment."

"Can't. I didn't bring my uniform." Rukawa said, clinging stubbornly to his dark blue tank top and black shorts.

"What?" Mitsui gasped, unable to conceal his shock.

"I have nothing to wear. I'll just pass."

"No, you can't. Why didn't you...huh." Mitsui stuttered exasperatedly. "Never mind. I'll just lend mine to you. I hope you don't mind wearing number fourteen?"

_In fact, I do. I don't subscribe to two-faced losers' numbers, just so you know. _It was smack right on the tip of his tongue; he was going to say it when...

Mitsui hastily proceeded to his bag and rummaged through the inside. He found his crumpled white jersey in the depths and smoothened it a little before thoughtlessly thrusting it away to Rukawa.

"It will fit just fine. I'm not too skinny myself. Anyway, good luck." Mitsui glided off and left Rukawa to savor his own complaints. _He could at least recognize the fact that he kissed me! _Alone with those thoughts, Rukawa felt like trampling on the pathetic jersey with his sneakers. Not because it nulled his excuse not to participate in the game, but because it reeked so characteristically of Mitsui. It was the same odor the senior emitted on the night of the kiss; it was very enticing; almost like they were no more than a centimeter apart. He put it on, a reluctant frown on his face, and found that it suited him just about exactly.

He straightened up to make his way to the court. From the corners of his eyes, he saw Mitsui and Sendoh engaging in what he suspected was a typically fashioned, flirtatious conversation. After all, that's the only kind of conversation Mitsui was good at. And when he was with Sendoh, wouldn't it be just right to turn up in his best? Rukawa had then begun to imagine what their exchanges were like. What he made out, however, made him cringe on his knees as all anger surged back to him. Along with that, and rather oddly, he felt like he'd died or was about to. He had been killed or else, left to die on his own. Just what the hell was Mitsui up to?

"I told you you should give me two rings first before I answer. It's not too much to remember, is it?" Sendoh was saying and smiling at the same time.

"I forgot, actually. I had other things in mind." Mitsui said. He, too, was grinning in much the same dreamy manner. "So two rings it is. About twelve midnight later on, will you stay up that late?"

"Of course. Anything."

Rukawa continued in a standstill, partly studying the two. With such staggering odds, it would be as no use to avoid them now as to try to pry two giant magnets apart. He began stretching, urging time to forge ahead so the day would be over and he wouldn't have to witness Mitsui and Sendoh's nauseating shenanigans.

So this was jealousy's tyranny. It would have to come to this? Rukawa thought. He looked at Mitsui and saw the face that lodged there for what it was; a face that wouldn't make anyone happy in the long run. It was not worth it, and so was conducting his envy tiffs with Sendoh through the internet. Clearly, the winner had been announced.

"Birds of the same feather flock together." Banged a boisterous voice from behind Rukawa all of a sudden. It was Sakuragi, who went on, "I didn't know losers of the same capabilities, or lack thereof, wear the same jerseys. Nyahahaha!" he finished and wheezed in laughter.

Rukawa didn't bother to think of a nice response. Instead, he glanced down on his front. He then concentrated on the foreshortened view of the number fourteen, which was as red as his hot, boiling anger. Mitsui's basketball jersey suddenly felt like venom on his skin and the impulse to shred it down to bits grew impossibly attractive.

TBC

A/N: I found myself bizarrely resigned to turn the tides against Rukawa. But of course, you got me; fight isn't over yet and many things are about to come. As you can see, there is some voice of reason here and that is Kogure. He's not lying; everything he said above (right in the first part) is most unfortunately true. He's a good person who knows what he's saying. But let's find out if the same holds true for Rukawa, shall we? Hahaha. I also just reread this before uploading and realized that, in many ways, I've managed to make these people really, really gay. Now I'm not sure if you like it that way but...you know me. I can't characterize very well. Sorry. Hahahaha! Anyway, MitRu fans, don't kill me. I'm going to do something about this. I swear to god. You know I'm more of a Mitru fan than a MitSen, right? Thanks for reading.

PS. I'm annoying this site by uploading my fics en masse. If you're irritated by that, I'm really sorry. I'm about to start on my job tomorrow and I feel quite sure that I will no longer have as much time as before. Gosh. I swear to god I'm going to continue writing this at the merest presence of chance. Even if it takes ten years. That's all.


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